


Yes, Deputy?

by DemonDeepFried



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Cute Ending, Deputy Jordan Parrish, Dom Jordan Parrish, Dom/sub, Flirting, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDeepFried/pseuds/DemonDeepFried
Summary: Deputy Jordan Parrish is new to Beacon Hills and, while he was expecting some pretty weird crimes (the town was infamous for strange animal attacks), he was not expecting the Sheriff's son:Stiles freaking Stilinski.Flirtatious, infuriating and way too hot for a scrawny teenager.And the little shit just won't leave him alone. Clearly, Parrish is going to have to teach him a lesson.





	

“So, I'll just have Deputy Mohan show you over to your desk and talk you through the newbie's responsibilities and then, you're good to go,” the Sheriff told Jordan. “I look forward to working with you, Parrish.”

“You too, Sheriff,” Parrish smiled, standing up and reaching over the table to shake his hand with a firm grip.

The Sheriff had a kind crinkle to his eyes when he smiled. The softening touch to his older face showed how handsome he had been when he was younger- and arguably still was, in Parrish’s opinion.

He left the room with another smile to the Sheriff and Deputy Mohan led him over to the smallest desk in the corner of the main room. She offered a consoling shrug when he grimaced at the sight of it.

“Sorry,” she apologised. “All the newbies have to go through the shitty desk. And the shitty duties. And the shitty everything, really. I don’t even know how we hire anyone.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” he managed in response, sliding into the chair and wincing at the loud squeak. “What am I doing right now?”

Mahon stretched behind her and retrieved a stack of paperwork. “Relatively self-explanatory,” she said simply. “Have fun.”

“Thanks,” Jordan muttered, with half-hearted malice, at her retreating form. Shuffling through the pages and folders, he started organising different piles for priority.

 

By the time he was finished, it was nearing lunch and he’d done nothing else. It had reached boiling Californian temperatures by midday and Parrish shed his jacket, wiping away the sweat that was beading on his brow. He rolled up his sleeves and tucked them over his elbows, sighing at the heat.

Sheriff Stilinski had explained the lunch break to him- his would be at 1:35PM (the last and shortest break). He checked his watch against the clock and the wall and let out a long groan. There was way too much time between now and when he could finally stop.

The paperwork wasn’t that bad but the monotony might actually kill him.

He flung himself back in his chair and covered his face with his arm, the lean muscles flexing over his eyes out of habit and stress.

It was going to be a long, _long_ day and he should have had more for breakfast than just grabbing a cheese sandwich from a shop by his new apartment. Never mind that though, Jordan hadn’t had a wank this morning. He’d woken up ten minutes late so had no time to deal with his morning wood and it had served to piss him off all day.

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Parrish blinked them open and gazed over the rest of the office with a wearied glare.

His eyes focused and he sat bolt upright- nearly smashing his knee into the brittle wood of his desk. He blinked a couple of times.

There was a guy- a teenager of about 17- leaning against the window of the Sheriff’s office with one hand tucked casually in his jeans pocket, the other arm curled around two brown paper bags of food and a phone nestled between the crook of his neck and his shoulder.

He was speaking animatedly into the phone and flailing his arms wildly, several times forgetting he was carrying other things.

Parrish watched, transfixed. The boy was _beautiful_.

Velvety brown locks tousled clumsily around his crown, rogue strands slipping over calf-brown eyes rimmed with full lashes. Constellations of moles spotted his smooth, pale skin and all Parrish could think of was tracing them with his tongue. The boy wore a loose white tee under a flannel covered with an overly large red hoodie- the loose mountains of layers were driving Jordan crazy as his mind flooded with images of the teen’s naked body, similarly covered in moles.

Jesus, he really should have had that wank this morning.

Suddenly, the boy’s grin widened and he laughed loudly at something the person at the end of the line was saying. Parrish found his eyes glued to the way the boy’s shining pink lips stretched over pearly whites. As he watched, the boy flicked his eyes up and snapped eye contact with Jordan. A teasing smirk twitched at the corner of his lip and he flashed a wink at him across the office.

Jordan gulped. The boy went back to snarking down the phone and left Parrish to wonder whether he’d imagined the wink or not.

“Hey, you’re the new deputy, right?” a voice said at the front of his desk. “I’ve finished mine so I’ll take some of the paperwork you’ve got.”

Parrish looked up, seeing one of the deputies that had been checking him out since he walked in. “That’d be brilliant, thanks,” he beamed, passing over one of the larger stacks of beige folders. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Haigh,” the man said with a predatory grin. “Deputy Haigh.”

Internally blanching, Parrish nodded and thanked him again, blanking him until he left his desk.

When he spared another look for the boy on the other side of the room, he deflated slightly when he saw that he’d gone.

He checked his watch again. He still had half an hour. “Agh, kill me now,” he mumbled into his palms, returning to his work and ignoring the vague mourning for the business and excitement of the battlefield.

Another animal attack stared at him for another ten minutes before he managed to summon the effort to pick up his pen and fill in ‘March 15th’ under the date. A heavy exhale. He turned over the page and scrawled ‘suspected animal attack’ for the fiftieth time. Seriously, what the hell lived in this town and was it going to kill him too?

(And could it do it soon, please?)

Military training or not, Parrish still struggled to deal with the tiresome meagreness of trivial duties such as this.

By the time 1:35 PM finally ticked around, Parrish was finishing up the first stack of folders. He had never felt happier- and he’d survived a mine blast.

“Stiles!” someone shouted.

Jordan’s head whipped around out of habit of hearing a shout. However, instead of seeing a man with a machine gun, he saw the Sheriff rolling his eyes at the beautiful boy from earlier.

The boy was sauntering backwards out of the Sheriff’s office with a mischievous grin curling his features. “I don’t care, old man,” he chortled. “No pizza for you. You eat the veggies or you don’t eat.” He shrugged and saluted as he left the building- Parrish was sure the boy, _Stiles_ , shot him another wink as he strode out the door.

“Who _is_ that?” Jordan asked a passing deputy.

The deputy followed Jordan’s line of sight and snorted. “That’s the Sheriff’s kid: Stiles,” she told him. “He’s a little shit but he’s in here most days so you get used to it.”

Parrish nodded and thanked the deputy with a hint of smile before finishing off the last box on the form and abandoning his desk with relief as he made his way across the office to the lunch room down the corridor.

Paperwork was going to make his first day go by at a snail’s pace but all he could think of clearly was the Sheriff’s son, Stiles.

 

The next day, Parrish woke up twenty minutes early. He leisurely stretched in his sheets, unfurling muscles and cracking joints. He wiped his palms over his face and blinked his eyes open properly.

He went to sit up when he realised his dick was hard as nails and pressing against his stomach as those pushing him back down onto the bed. With an extra ten minutes, he shrugged and cocked a crooked grin as he slipped his hand into his boxers and curled his fingers around his cock.

At the first slow pull, he drew a ragged groan from his throat. He paused to lick his hand carelessly for lube before taking himself back into his hand and working a fast rhythm. He tugged harder and harder, working himself to the edge and then,

“Ohhh,” he moaned, throwing his head back and biting down hard on his lip. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling hot spurts of come shoot up his bare chest and pool in the ridges of his abs.

He spent a long moment just lying there, feeling the come cool and crust until it felt too gross and he rolled out of bed into the shower.

 

Waking up earlier meant that Parrish had enough time to drop by the coffee shop instead of Walmart and get himself an actual breakfast.

It was a warm morning and the sun was beating hard down on the earth, baking the concrete under Parrish’s feet as he strolled up the pavement to the shop. His khaki deputy uniform was smothering in this heat so he’d left the over jacket in the car and had made the better choice to wear the short-sleeved shirt today.

As he made his way into the coffee shop, he sighed in relief at the familiar feel of air-con rushing against his sweaty skin.

A voice laughed somewhere near him. “You’re not used to the heat?”

Jordan opened his eyes and saw Stiles. He gulped. “Oh, um,” he stammered. “I was in the army. I served in Afghanistan. I’m pretty used to the heat; I think it’s more there’s no adrenaline to make me forget it.”

Stiles mulled that over. “Fair enough,” he said. He was perched on the edge of the counter with a takeaway cup in his hand. Maintaining treacherous eye contact, he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped.

With a physically painful swallow, Parrish nodded and made his way to the counter. There was a gravelly rumble to his voice when he asked, “You’re the Sheriff’s kid, right?”

Nodding in the affirmative, Stiles shot him a grin and retorted, “Why? You been asking around about me?”

Jordan paused and looked back at Stiles. “No,” he replied, trying to make his voice sound sure. “I just noticed you loitering around the station yesterday.” He forced himself to turn back to the server who was appearing from the backroom. “Black coffee to go, please,” he ordered.

“Loitering?” Stiles repeated.

Parrish raised an eyebrow and stared the younger boy down. “What else would you call it?” he shot back. Something about Stiles was riling him up and he played it with excitement.

“Well, I don’t know, Deputy,” Stiles pressed, jumping down off the counter and stalking towards him until they were barely inches apart. “You’re the law enforcement. Tell me what I did wrong.”

When Parrish hesitated, unsure what was happening, Stiles ducked away with a snigger. “Aww, Deputy Parrish, did I get you all flustered?” He laughed again and winked lavishly as he swaggered out of the door sipping his coffee.

“You said _black_ coffee, right?” the server checked.

Parrish nodded absently, still watching the door Stiles had left through. “Yeah, thanks,” he murmured, only half paying attention.

 

Deputy Parrish strode into the Sheriff’s station, five minutes early, and set his coffee on his shitty desk alongside the stacks of folders he hadn’t finished yesterday. He glared at them with distaste.

Glancing around, he noted that no one else had arrived yet besides him and the receptionist- who never seemed to leave anyway.

He took the opportunity to explore around the station. The lunch room, he’d seen; the evidence locker was cramped and grandly uninteresting; the jail cells were boring; and the only other room was the Sheriff’s office. Although, as he passed the window, he heard voices.

“-who is he?”

“Stiles, you can’t go snooping after every person in this town.”

“I’m not snooping! I’m pursuing curiosity!”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense, son, just stop stalking people you think are criminals.”

“Okay, I am definitely not stalking.”

There was a weary sigh.

“Don’t you have school or something?”

“It’s a Saturday, Dad.”

“A man can only dream.”

A scoff.

“Why don’t you work with the new deputy today, Stiles? His name’s Parrish and he’s just come back from serving in Afghanistan so he’s probably the most resilient to your—you.”

“Gee thanks, Dad. But that does sound fun. What’s he doing? Anything interesting or just newbie duties?”

“Paperwork until we find someone else to do it.”

Parrish backed away from the door and retreated quickly to his desk, just in time for Stiles to fling open the door and freeze at the sight of the deputy at the other side of the room. The shock on his face melted away to a wicked grin. “Deputy,” he grinned. “You’re in bright and early. Hoping to make a good impression, are we?” His taunts stirred something in Parrish that was practically clawing at him.

“Problem?” he replied coolly.

Stiles shrugged. “Nah,” he said, “I think it’s adorable you wanna be a good little deputy.” He bounced his eyebrows and smirked.

“How do people put up with you?” Parrish asked, not even meaning for the words to leave his mouth.

Without hesitation, Stiles answered, “People love me. I’m awesome and people just love to be in my company.”

Parrish raised his eyebrows. The boy was hot but, gods, was he frustrating.

“Hmm, you know, you’ve got the prettiest eyes, Deputy,” he purred, his tongue shooting out to wet his lips. “And the prettiest lips. Y’know, a guy could go crazy imagining all the things to do with those lips.”

Jordan felt his heart actually stop for a moment. Then is gaze hardened into narrowed eyes as he stared down the teenager. “Does this work on anyone?” he wondered, refusing to admit that it really fucking did work on him.

Stiles winked. “You let me know,” he promised.

He didn’t reply, rather picked his pen back up and started filling in one of the forms in the next stack of folders. Stiles sauntered over with an unfaltering grin and seated himself on the edge of Parrish’s desk, his pert ass dangerously close to Parrish’s pen hand. He paused in his writing to shift his hand a little further away, to avoid temptation, and continued repeating the same generic ‘animal attack’ across another page.

“Just gonna ignore me, are you?” Stiles coaxed.

Parrish rolled his eyes. “Stiles, I’m trying to work,” he pointed out.

The boy just waggled his eyebrows and said, “So, you do know my name, Deputy. I bet you have been asking around about me.”

“Stiles-” Parrish tried, desperate to get back onto his work and to not have such a tempting distraction perched on his desk.

“Hmm, yeah,” Stiles drew in a mock groan, “You should definitely say my name more often. I wanna hear you scream it.”

Parrish swallowed and snapped, “Stiles, I have work to do. Find someone else to mess around.”

“Messing around?” Stiles gasped, hand on heart. “Who’s messing around? I thought this was flirting, just your bog-standard…hardcore…dirty…flirting.”

The only thing that saved Parrish was three other deputies walking in. Stiles peered over his shoulder and slid off the desk when he saw them.

“I’ll see you later,” Stiles grinned. “Deputy.” He winked and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth.

As soon as he left, Jordan dropped his head on the desk. Stiles Stilinski might actually kill him.

 

The whole week, Stiles continued to relentlessly flirt and pester Jordan until he was ready to throw the boy over his shitty little newbie desk and fuck him into next week.

He hadn’t left Parrish alone for the entire week- his beautiful snark and arrogant flirting was driving the deputy up the wall. All he could think about was teaching the boy a lesson he’d never forget.

Hell, he’d spent the last two nights fantasising about it while rubbing one off in the shower.

That was probably what he’d do tonight as well, he thought, as he slung his jacket over his shoulders and pocketed his phone, about to leave. He was stopped at the door by the Sheriff.

“Parrish,” he said, catching the man’s shoulder.

“Sheriff Stilinski,” Parrish acknowledged. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Well, Deputy Haigh can’t do the road patrol tonight,” he explained. “So, I thought we could give you some more responsibilities.”

“Absolutely,” Parrish agreed. “I’d love to.”

The Sheriff chuckled and tossed him the keys to the patrol car. “I need more deputies like you, son,” he admitted. “The stop’s just off junction 90, it’s easy to see. You know what you’re looking out for. Deputy Mohan will relieve you tomorrow morning. Oh, and look out for Stiles? He likes to speed down that stretch of road and he has literally no fear of authority.”

“I’d noticed,” Parrish nodded with a slight smirk.

 

As thrilling as it was to finally have some actual deputy duties, Parrish couldn’t help but find the endless hours sat in the patrol car to be just as mind-numbingly boring as paperwork.

He fiddled with the radio so that it was playing classic rock and not a meaningless conversation between two of the other deputies.

Around 10 at night, Parrish was just drumming out the tune of an AC/DC track when he heard an engine. He scrutinised the dark night around him and jumped in shock when a car shot past him. He immediately started the car and raced after the car, flashing his lights and letting the alarm sound once.

As he neared the car, he recognised it was a Jeep. It looked to be in pretty bad shape: the bumper was practically hanging off, the tail lights were flickering and one appeared to be smashed in, and the paintwork was laughable.

The Jeep pulled over into a lay by and Parrish parked behind it, pulling out a notepad and pen as he stepped out the patrol car and walked over to the driver’s side.

“License and reg-”

“Well, good evening, Deputy,” Stiles greeted with a sly grin. “And what brings you this way?”

“Stiles,” Parrish sighs, exasperated. “Do you realise how fast you were going?”

“Do you?”

Jordan pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. Decided, he stepped back and ordered, “Get out of the car.”

“What?” Stiles said dumbly. “Why-?”

“Get out of the car, Stiles,” Parrish repeated, firmer this time, shoving his notepad and pen into his breast pocket.

Slowly, Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt and popped the car door. But he didn’t get out.

“Unless you want me to force you: Get. Out. Of. The car,” Parrish growled, standing a little straighter as he stared down the boy.

With reluctance, Stiles finally stepped down and flung his arms either side of him. “Okay?” he snapped. “I’m out. Now, what do you want?”

“Put your hands in the air,” Parrish instructed, voice solid and unwavering.

Stiles frowned. “Why? I’m not doing that,” he said, folding his arms.

Parrish cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was under the impression that I’m the deputy here,” he said sarcastically. “Please, feel free to do whatever you like.”

“Thank you,” Stiles returned. “It’s much appreciated.” He grinned, unfolding his arms and waving his fingers at Jordan.

Parrish dived forward and grabbed one of the hands that was in the air, spinning Stiles around and slamming him against the hood of the patrol car. He whipped his handcuffs out and clipped them around Stiles’ hands.

“Hey!” Stiles yelped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Is this not what you wanted, Stiles?” Parrish asked, sarcasm still tinting his words. “You were talking about my lips, weren’t you? Haven’t stopped talking about them for days. Didn’t you want to see what I could do with them?”

Stiles had stilled under him. “You’re bluffing,” he betted.

“Whatever you say,” Parrish murmured, his lips brushing Stiles’ ear. Stiles flinched and Parrish chuckled. He held Stiles down with a hand pressing his cheek into the icy metal of the bonnet. Bent over the bonnet, Stiles’ ass was raised in the air and with his other hand, Parrish smoothed his palm over the material stretched taut over the perfect round cheeks. “You sure _you_ weren’t bluffing this past week and a half?” he teased. “You were seeming pretty damn confident before you were handcuffed and pressed against a car.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stiles snarked back. “That’s probably because I wasn’t _handcuffed and pressed against a car_!”

 _Smack_.

Stiles froze.

Jordan smirked as he raised his hand and massaged over the ass cheek he’d just slapped. “What was that, Stiles?” he asked innocently. He could see Stiles’ dick twitching in his jeans from the angle; he knew just how much this was turning Stiles on.

“Parrish…?” Stiles breathed, carefully. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what you deserve, Stiles,” he replied, kicking Stiles feet further apart. “And that’s _Deputy_ , to you.”

Inhaling shakily, his eyes half-closed in arousal, Stiles repeated, “Deputy.”

A wicked grin spread across Jordan’s face and he stood up straight, leaving Stiles bent over the hood of the car, handcuffed and his legs spread wide. He looked beautiful. Parrish’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and he moved carefully to hook his fingers in Stiles’ waistband and torturously slowly pulled his jeans down his ass, revealing tight black boxer briefs.

Stiles bit down on his lip and jerked forward at the rush of cold air as Parrish continued tugging his jeans down until they were around his ankles.

“You know, Stiles,” Parrish said, his voice a deep rumble, “you need to be taught a lesson about respect. If this doesn’t do it then maybe the next time you decide to make a sarcastic little comment while I’m trying to work, I’ll flip you round, rip your jeans off and fuck you into the desk to show you who’s really in charge.”

Under him, Stiles shuddered and stifled a moan. “What are you going to do, Deputy?” he choked out.

“I’m going to make you beg for my cock,” Parrish told him firmly and matter-of-factly. “I’m going to work you so hard you know exactly who’s in charge. I’m going to make you learn how to do as you’re told.”

Stiles scoffed. “I don’t beg,” he warned.

“You will,” Parrish replied, ripping away Stiles’ boxers and leaving him bare ass, his skin prickling at the cold air. “You’ll be doing exactly as I say, by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Big words for a newbie who always to gets to work five minutes early,” Stiles snorted, receiving another slap against the bare skin of the other cheek. He gasped and hissed.

Parrish waited a moment, listening for another sarcastic comment and smiled when none was given. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What was that?”

Stiles opened his mouth to repeat himself and Jordan’s hand came down again on his ass, harder this time and Stiles yelped. “Sadistic fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Another slap, Parrish made sure it was the same cheek and watched with glee as the milky white skin reddened under his calloused palm. “I’ve got all night, Stiles,” he reminded. “I don’t mind drawing this out if you’re going to be stubborn.”

“Bite me,” Stiles snapped in response.

Smirking, Jordan ducked down and grazed his teeth over Stiles’ ass. Stiles jumped and hurriedly said, “No! I was joking, please, don’t.”

Jordan chuckled and stood back up again. “Do you want to repeat that?” he coaxed.

Swallowing, Stiles obliged, carefully, “Um, please don’t, Deputy?”

There was a heavy pause as Parrish let Stiles feel nervous tension build up in him, waiting for the deputy’s approval. Jordan gave it by saying, “Good boy,” and crouching to part Stiles’ ass cheeks. He licked a stripe from Stiles’ perineum to his puckered hole.

Stiles jumped, bucking into the car bonnet. “Ohh, Jesus,” he groaned, pushing desperately back against Parrish’s tongue.

Chuckling, Jordan stood back up and eyed the fluttering hole and Stiles’ keening form.

“Fuck,” Stiles grunted, his erection was pressed against the cold metal of the car. “Gods, stop teasing, Parrish.”

Parrish smacked Stiles’ bare ass and shoved his shirt up his chest so he could see the delicious pale expanse of his back. He traced the perfect little dip in the small of his back with the tips of his fingers. “You don’t give the orders here, Stiles,” Parrish sang with an impish curl to his smile. “I do.” He slapped his hand against Stiles’ ass again and took smug satisfaction in the pained whine leaving Stiles’ parted lips.

Hypnotised with Stiles’ shining lips- reddened by biting- he was hit by a sudden idea and pulled Stiles to standing by his hair. Stiles yelped in pain but was silenced when Jordan pushed him down to his knees and Stiles realised he was face to face with Parrish’s crotch. He gulped and flicked his eyes up.

“Why don’t you show me just how obedient you are, Stiles?” Parrish encouraged. “And then maybe I’ll reward you.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. Jordan could see the battle in his eyes: much of Stiles looked adverse to following anyone’s orders but his eyes betrayed him as they kept drifting to the straining bulge in Jordan’s beige uniform trousers. Smirking, Parrish threaded his fingers into Stiles’ unruly hair and drew him closer to the bulge in his trousers. “Surely, you can know how to undo a button and fly?” he asked sarcastically.

Eyes wide, Stiles stared between Jordan’s face and his crotch. “Y-you want-?” he stammered, trailing off.

Raising his brow expectantly, Jordan knocked Stiles’ head against his cock gently and tilted his chin downwards. “Well, go on then,” he ordered, impatiently. “Or would you rather I throw you back over the car and spank you until you can’t walk?”

Stiles’ chest shuddered as he took a shaky breath. He gazed intently at the straining bulge. “How do I unbutton your pants without any hands?” Stiles wondered, directing the question to Jordan.

Offering a shrug, Jordan suggested, “You use your mouth to wind everyone up, how about you use it for something useful?”

“Y-you want me to open your pants with my mouth?” he repeated, flicking his eyes over the button and fly in horror. “How?”

“Why don’t you work something out?” Parrish barked. “And hurry up- I might have all night but I don’t have the patience to wait for you.”

Stiles opened his mouth to retort but shut it promptly when he remembered the stinging pain of his ass cheeks. He leant forward on his knees and tugged at the button with his teeth, teasing it bumpily out of the hook. When he’d finished with the buttoned, he caught the zip between his teeth and jerked it down, his chin grazing the hard length of Parrish’s cock. Pulling the material of Parrish’s waistband into his mouth, he dragged the trousers down to the deputy’s thigh and knelt back up to be eye to eye with the outline of Jordan’s erection.

Meeting Jordan’s eye again, Stiles tugged the boxers down with his teeth as well and gasped at the size of Parrish’s dick. “Holy shit,” he murmured. “You want me to-?”

Jordan just raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lips. “I want you to wrap those pretty little lips around my cock and show me just how obedient you can be. You might save yourself from another spanking.”

At the mention of spanking, Stiles sucked his lower lip between his teeth and eyed Parrish’s leaking cock. He wet his lips and then darted forwards to lick a narrow stripe, with the tip of his tongue, from the base to the head- a good eight inches of thick girth. When he’d grown some confidence, Stiles knelt up slightly to reach the tip and covered it with his lips, swirling his tongue around the head and running it over the slit.

He dipped his head lower and sucked deeply, hollowing his cheeks and taking in as much length as he could. He bobbed up and down, his lips wet and dribbling over Parrish’s cock as they ran over the thick veins. Sucking harder, Stiles flickered his eyes up to gauge his effect on Jordan and saw that the muscles in his jaw were twitching but the smirk was still firmly placed on his lips.

Stiles growled around his dick and hollowed his cheeks as much as he could, sliding even deeper as he tried to shift the unaffected smile on Parrish’s face. He nearly choked in surprise when the hand gripping tightly in Stiles’ hair suddenly shoved him onto his cock so the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his dick tickled Stiles’ nose. Stiles squealed and pushed against the hand holding him down on the dick that had slid down his throat. Parrish held him firmly there for another long moment as Stiles fought against the hold; as soon as Parrish let go, Stiles fell backwards gagging and gasping for breath.

“Fucking hell, Parrish!” Stiles gasped, settling back on his heels.

Raising an eyebrow, Parrish said, low and dangerously, “What did you call me?”

Eyes widening, Stiles corrected, “Deputy, Deputy, I meant Deputy.”

Parrish tutted. “Stand up, Stiles,” he instructed, hands on hips with his dick still standing proudly.

“Please, don’t,” Stiles pleaded. “It hurts.”

The whiney plea made Parrish falter before he spotted the flaming arousal still roaring in Stiles’ eyes and the way his dick was still flushed and straining against his stomach. He smirked. “Then do as you’re told,” he advised, throwing Stiles’ lanky body back over the hood of the car and delivering twenty ruthless slaps without pausing in between.

Stiles screamed the whole time and when Parrish finally finished, he was a panting, writhing mess on the hood of the patrol car. “What have you got to say for yourself, Stiles?” Parrish asked, rubbing his coarse palm over the bright red of Stiles’ ass cheeks.

Hissing and flinching at the sensitive sting, Stiles mumbled something Parrish couldn’t make out.

“Speak louder,” he demanded, grabbing a handful of Stiles’ cheek and roughly rubbing his crotch against the red skin.

Stiles squeaked at the contact and cried, “I said, I’m sorry! I’ll do as I’m told, I promise, Deputy.”

The smile on Jordan’s face turned mischievous and he countered, “Oh, but how do I know you’re really sorry?”

“I am!” Stiles sobbed.

“Nah,” Parrish said. “You’ll have to show me how sorry you really are.”

Stiles hesitated. “How?” he asked, his voice high and adorable to Parrish’s ears.

The deputy couldn’t help but notice how the boy seemed to be pushing his perfect round ass a little higher and a little further towards Parrish. In response, he gripped Stiles’ hips and held him in place.

Grunting, Stiles begged, “Please, Deputy.”

“What was that?” Jordan prompted.

“God, I want—” Stiles cut himself off and humped at the hood of the car. “Please, touch me.” He flexed his handcuffed hands to further put his request across.

“Now, now, Stiles,” Parrish taunted. “Before you get rewarded for behaving well, you have to prove that you really are sorry. Get on your knees and show me how obedient you can be.”

This time, Stiles spun around quickly and dived straight for Parrish’s cock, taking it into his mouth and laving up and down the length with fervour- desperate to show the deputy whatever he wanted if it meant he could get a hand on his dick. There were going to be a red-raw line circling his wrists by the time those handcuffs came off, he fought against the trappings as his dick cried out for attention.

He bobbed enthusiastically up and down the dick in front of him, sucking hard and hollowing his cheeks. He hummed around the length in his mouth and smiled smugly when Parrish failed to stifle a shuddering groan.

Parrish rocked his hips gently into Stiles’ greedy mouth, his hands cupping Stiles’ face. Peering up, Stiles saw the deputy’s eyes drifting closed and his mouth parted.

The sight spurred him on even more to suck on the deputy’s dick harder, closing his eyes as he tried to sink even further down on the cock, falling backwards as the head hit the back of his throat and he gagged.

Parrish looked down on the boy as he caught his breath back, eyeing his dick again. He offered a genuine smile and picked the boy up by the shoulders, spinning him around and pressing the hard line of his dick against the crease of Stiles’ ass and placing a firm palm on the boy’s shoulder blade, guiding him down so that his face was pressed once more against the cold metal bonnet. He could see Stiles grinning in relief as he realised he was going to get off at last.

Stroking Stiles’ shivering thighs, Parrish retrieved a bottle of lube from his pocket and squirted some into his hand before steadily circling Stiles’ hole with a finger. He dipped the tip of the finger in, moving some of the lube inside. Stiles hissed at the sensation, which caused Jordan to frown and ask, “Exactly how much experience do you have?”

Stiles was silent.

Giving a sharp smack to Stiles’ ass, Parrish repeated the question and Stiles replied with, “I’ve—only ever given other guys hand jobs. I’ve never…I’ve only ever fingered myself.”

Inhaling abruptly, Parrish felt his dick twitch at the image of Stiles with his fingers in his ass and coming all over himself. He nodded and said, “Okay.” Pressing the finger deeper into Stiles’ ass, he pushed in up to the third knuckle and stilled, waiting for Stiles to adjust. The boy fidgeted at the unfamiliar sensation but was soon pushing further back, looking for more. Parrish squirted more lube onto his finger and moved a second one inside too, scissoring the digits against Stiles’ tight walls.

The boy keened under him and bucked his hips, trying to get some friction against is dick and trying to get the fingers deeper inside him at the same time. “Gods, please, Deputy,” Stiles begged. “Please, please, _please_.”

“What do you want, Stiles?” Parrish coaxed, smiling as he remembered Stiles’ earlier words promising that he never begged. “Tell me what you want.” He kept a steady pace as he fucked his fingers in and out of Stiles’ ass.

“Jesus,” Stiles cried, burying his head in his arms against the car. “I want you to fuck me, _please_. God, Deputy, please.”

“Tell me why you’ve been flirting and hounding me all week,” Parrish commanded, leisurely adding another finger and continuing at the same torturously steady pace. “Tell me why you haven’t left me alone.”

“Because you’re fucking hot,” Stiles choked out, his hands fighting against the restraints furiously as tears welled in his eyes at the cry of his flushed dick. “Because you’re so easily flustered and I love watching you stammer after I flirt. And because I haven’t rubbed one of in days without thinking of you.”

“Oh, really?” Parrish said, a shark-like smile adorning his features. “Well, don’t worry, Stiles. I’ll make sure I give you something to wank off to.”

“Oh, God,” Stiles moaned, scratching his nails against the paintwork he could reach.

Pulling out his fingers, Parrish smirked at Stiles’ whimper of loss and drew his dick further out of his boxers, rubbing lube down the thick length. He pressed the tip against Stiles’ hole- which looked considerably smaller compared to the girth of his cock but he doubted Stiles would appreciate him stopping now. So, he pushed harder until the head disappeared past the ring of muscle.

“Holy shit,” Parrish gasped out, steadying himself with a hand on the small of Stiles’ back. “Jesus Christ, you’re tight. When you fingered yourself, did you even use more than one finger?”

Stiles managed a breathless chuckle. “Not really,” he admitted, adding an obedient, “Deputy.”

Parrish grinned foxily at the title, bottoming out suddenly without warning. Stiles nearly screamed, clawing at the bonnet and whimpering. After the rough intrusion, Parrish allowed a minute or so for Stiles to adjust to his size but even after that long, Stiles was still spasming around the huge length. Pulling halfway out, Parrish squirted some more lube along his cock before putting the bottle away and sliding his dick back in.

He grabbed Stiles’ hips with a rough hold and moaned at the tight heat. Beginning to fuck Stiles at a slow pace, building up as Stiles’ moans encouraged him on.

“Ah, Deputy, fuck me harder, please,” Stiles groaned. “Let my hands go, I just wanna touch my dick.”

“You don’t give orders around here, remember?” Parrish snarled, curling his fingers into claws on Stiles’ hips and picking up the pace to a brutal pounding. Stiles shouted and struggled against the bonds on his hands. Fucking Stiles harder and harder into the car, Parrish took glee in the way the boy knocked forward up and down the hood of the car, his dick hard as nails and trapped between the metal and his stomach.

As punishment, Parrish leaned forward so his body draped over Stiles’ and wrapped his hands around the pale column of Stiles’ throat, using it as a handle instead. He stood a little straighter so that Stiles’ chest left the hood of the car and pounded into him harder.

Stiles let out a strangled cry and Parrish felt his muscles twitch under his hold. Squeezing tighter, Parrish heard Stiles’ breath get shallower and sped up until he fucking Stiles so hard he was crying out at every pound.

Throwing his head back, Stiles grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. Parrish removed one of his hands and wrapped it around Stiles’ flushed cock. Tears beaded in the corner of Stiles’ eyes as he came in an instant at the contact, hot spurts of come shooting up his chest.

The boy shuddered under him as Parrish continued fucking into him. He released Stiles’ neck to shove him back down against the car and get a better angle to hit his prostate on every pound.

“Fuck,” Jordan groaned, digging his nails into Stiles’ shoulders and leaning down to suck a deep red bruise into the crook of Stiles’ neck as he came in Stiles’ ass. He collapsed over Stiles’ back as his softening dick slipped out.

“I’ll say,” Stiles murmured, breath ragged. “You, are one hell of a fuck, Deputy.”

Parrish chuckled and stood up straight, uncuffing Stiles and leaning against the car with his hip. “You learn your lesson, kid?” he asked, conversationally, as Stiles staggered to a standing position and shuffled back into his jeans.

“If I said no, would you fuck me again?” Stiles asked innocently, rubbing the red welts around his wrists.

“If you said yes, I’d call you a liar and tell you that learning your lesson is going to take time,” Parrish replied, tucking his cock back into his pants and doing up the fly. “And _lots_ —of fucking.”

Stiles’ dick twitched in his pants and Jordan smirked.

“I’ll see you at the station tomorrow, Stiles,” he told him. “I have a shitty desk I want to see you crouched under.” Stiles let out an uncontrollable moan. “Or bent over.”

“God, yes, to all of that,” Stiles groaned.

Chortling, Jordan stepped toe to toe with Stiles and pressed his lips against the boy’s, licking into his mouth and sucking at his lip. He kissed him passionately and then stepped back, winking. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Deputy,” Stiles obliged, walking dazedly back to his Jeep.

Jordan slid into the driver’s seat of the patrol car and watched Stiles stumble into his Jeep and drive away, waving shyly from the window. He grinned and folded his arms behind his head.

Perhaps working in an office wasn’t so boring after all.

 


End file.
